


Bad Day

by Ellie226



Series: Mark/El [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Cutting, Daddy Kink, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One step forward and two steps back.  El figures that Mark will eventually get sick of punishing her.  Mark thinks he can outlast her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Day

I was curled on my side on the bed, clutching Stella when Daddy got home. He called for me, but I didn’t get up, simply laying there waiting for him to find me. 

I didn’t have to wait long. I felt the bed dip as he climbed next to me, running a hand gently down my side. “Princess? What’s wrong?”

I rolled over and pressed my body against him, starting to cry. “You’re gonna be really really mad at me.”

He hugged me. “I’m not ever mad at you; sometimes I don’t like the things you’ve done.”

“You’re gonna spank me.”

“Maybe. You want to tell me what you’re worried about?”

I shook my head no, pressing myself even tighter against him. “You’re gonna be mad.”

“Whatever it is, we can fix it. I just need you to tell me what happened.”

Sniffling, I pulled away from him. “I was bad,” I whispered, as I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, wincing as I felt the cut reopening.

“Have you cleaned it out?” Daddy’s voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse.

I nodded, “I didn’t mean it. I got upset and I just did it and...I’m sorry Daddy. I really didn’t mean it.”

“Alright. We’ll talk about that in a minute. I want to make sure it’s all clean and then we’re going to bandage it.” He sat up and urged me off of the bed and toward the kitchen. 

Keeping an arm around me, Daddy reached above the fridge and grabbed the first aid kit. Steering me toward the sink, he turned on the warm water and rinsed the cut.

“Can you tell me what you used?”

“A steak knife,” I told him, sniffling. 

“Can you tell me why?” He asked, turning off the water and lifting me up to sit on the counter. I winced and hugged Stella tightly, knowing that he was going to use the sting-y spray that I hated.

Clenching my eyes tight against what I knew was coming, I said, “I got upset.”

“About what Princess?” 

I shrugged, not wanting to explain it to him. Not that I thought that would work.

“Use your words,” he prompted.

“I was sad,” I finally mumbled.

I heard the spray before I felt it; it stung as badly as ever. Maybe worse this time because the cut was deeper. I jerked my arm away from Daddy, “That huuuurrrrrrrrts,” I whined, cradling it protectively against my body.

“I know baby,” Daddy had recaptured my hand, and he was holding it tightly so that he could re-spray the cut. “You need to let me clean it so you don’t get a yucky infection though.”

I shook my head no, whining a little, even as I forced my arm to relax so he didn’t have to fight with me. I knew that he had to clean it; I just didn’t like it.

“What were you sad about?” he asked, once he’d finished spraying.

I shrugged again, “Just felt bad.”

Mark’s POV

I nodded at that, working on keeping my facial expression as neutral as possible. Dr. Finnegan and I had met a few times independently to talk about the best ways to handle relapse, and I had to keep reminding myself that I did know what to do. 

Grabbing the gauze, I began wrapping it around her arm. It was unwieldy to handle it this way, but after a lot of trial and error, I’d decided it was the best route to go. This way, I could easily tell if she’d messed with the bandages. 

I was also supposed to be removing any incentive El had found for cutting; she liked what she termed her “fancy band-aids”, and that meant they were not to be used when El hurt herself on purpose. El wasn’t supposed to know about the second reason; Dr. Finnegan told me that it wasn’t a punishment, but El would perceive it as such.

“I want my cupcake band-aids today Daddy,” El told me.

Finishing the wrapping, I made eye contact, “Cupcake band-aids are for accidents baby; I need to be able to see if you’ve been picking at it; that’s easiest if we wrap it like this.” 

Picking her up again, I settled her onto my hip and we walked out into the living room. “Let’s rock a little,” I told her.

El curled up on my lap, hugging Stella and sucking her thumb. I played with her hair and waited until she felt more relaxed to start talking.

“Did you feel bad when you woke up?” I asked her.

“Maybe a little,” she sat up, looking at me, “Not a lot though Daddy.”

I nodded at that, and she settled back down. She was tense again; we’d had a lot of discussions about her telling me when she felt bad because this is what ended up happening.

“Do you remember when you noticed that you were sad?”

She shook her head no again, and I stopped talking for a minute, regrouping. We rocked in silence while I figured out how to get her to talk about the trigger today.

“When did you cut yourself baby?” That was better. It was concrete.

“When I got home from work,” she said, talking around her thumb.

It was Tuesday, her early day. “So, around 5:00?”

She nodded yes, sniffling again.

“Did you leave work thinking about hurting yourself?”

She tensed up at that, and I rushed to reassure her, “I’m trying to figure out what happened today Princess. That’s all.”

She nodded again, much more slowly this time.

“Do you remember when you first started thinking about it?”

“Ummmm,” she stretched it out. “I was getting a report signed.”

Okay. That was progress. “Was it before lunch, or had you eaten already?”

“I ate my lunch, but not my cookie yet.”

Theoretically, that meant sometime between 11:30 and 3:00. Knowing El, I figured I needed more information. “Do you remember when you ate lunch today?”

“Around 1:00? We were in a meeting until then, and I had to go and get lunch because we’re out of bread.”

“Okay, so we’re in the afternoon. You went to get your report signed. Did you talk to your boss?”

“A little bit Daddy.”

“What did you talk about?” 

“Her desk was a mess.”

That was less helpful. It could mean that El was stressed out about the amount of work that she had or it could mean that she was upset because everything wasn’t tidy. Or it could mean that Mercury was in retrograde.

“Do you remember why you felt sad now? We know that you started thinking about hurting yourself in the afternoon.”

“I was just sad Daddy,” she sounded frustrated, and close to tears.

“What made you decide to hurt yourself though baby? I know that something must have happened.”

“I was just sad. It’s stupid. I was sad. Normal people don’t just cut themselves because they’re sad. I’m supposed to be better now,” she was getting progressively louder as she told me that, and starting to get off of my lap.

I held onto her, “Did I tell you to go someplace young lady?”

She kept wiggling, “I need some fucking space.”

“Watch it,” I warned her. “You’re upset; that’s fine. It’s not okay for you to start cursing at Daddy though.”

“Lemme go.”

I shook my head no, “We’re not done talking yet sweetpea. Just calm down and talk to me. You’re fine; you know that you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She gave a shriek of frustration, “I don’t want you right now. Leggo. I want you to leave me alone.”

El’s POV

He wouldn’t let me go, and I finally got so frustrated that I curled my hands into fists and began pounding on my thighs as I yelled at him, “Let go let go let go!”

All that accomplished was him grabbing both of my arms and restraining me. “You can’t bait me into spanking you before we talk about this baby. All you’re doing is guaranteeing that the spanking is going to be worse. So why don’t you try to calm down so we can talk? Because we are going to.”

“I don’t want to,” I spat out, angry at everyone.

“Your objection has been noted. What made you decide to cut today El?”

“NOTHING. I told you. I was just sad. I felt bad, and it makes me feel better. And you’re mean.”

“What made you feel bad though princess? Why did you decide that you should cut rather than call me or Dr. Finnegan?”

I had been struggling throughout this, and I finally just collapsed against him. He wasn’t letting me go, and I wanted to run away. “Let go of meeeeeeeeeeee,” I wailed piteously.

“Are you going to stay here and not hurt yourself?”

I didn’t answer. Having been spanked more than once now for promising Daddy something and then immediately disobeying him, I didn’t want to do it again. Instead, I began twisting, trying to hide my face against his chest. If we were going to talk, I didn’t want to look at him.

He was holding on to my wrists too tightly, and I started crying, big noisy sobs, “You’re hurting me Daddy. Let gooooo.”

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt,” he sounded so damn calm. 

“I don’t like this,” I sobbed.

“Uh huh. I understand.”

“I want you to let goooooo. I need you to let me go Daddy. Stooooooppppppp.”

Mark’s POV

Dr. Finnegan had told me that it was like exorcising a demon. El was saying this stuff, but it wasn’t really her. The part of her that wanted to hurt herself was what I was seeing. That’s all.

She didn’t need to be let go. I wasn’t hurting her. If I let her go, she’d feel worse and probably end up hurting herself again to deal with it. I just had to wait her out.

It took longer than usual. She’d struggle for a minute, and then she’d relax against me. Then she’d fight with me and yell, and then she’d just cry limply.

Finally, she just sat there, still crying. She hadn’t tried to pull away in about ten minutes, and I figured that I was pretty safe.

“Baby, I’m going to let you go. Are you okay for me to do that? I need to know that you aren’t going to hurt yourself or try to leave. Can you promise me that?”

Sniffling, she said, “Uh huh.”

“Okay.” I slowly released her hands and moved my legs so I was no longer pinning her. I was grateful when she responded by twisting in my lap to hug me, crying against my shirt. It was preferable to her scooting off to the hall bathroom, the only room in the house that still had a lock.

Hugging her, I rocked. “It’s not so bad baby. Whatever it was, you’re going to be okay.”

She half-laughed, half-sobbed at that. “No I’m not. I’m never going to be okay.”

“Yes you will. You’re working really hard, and I want to help you. And Dr. Finnegan wants to help.”

She shook her head, still pressing her face against my shirt. “No,” she told me. “It never gets better. I’m always going to be messed up. You can’t undo hippocampal shrinkage in people with typical depression.”

Great. I’d somehow stumbled on El the clinician. Just rational enough to be extremely difficult to reason with.

“That’s not true,” I didn’t know if it was. El liked to use science when she got like this; she didn’t necessarily report it 100% accurately; she tended to remember only the data that enforced what she wanted it to.

“Yes it is. Depression causes the hippocampus to shrink. The patients who responded to treatment were all diagnosed as having atypical depression. That’s not me.” She was now sitting up, looking at me. Her eyes were a little swollen from crying, but she was clearly gearing up for an argument.

Not sure how to argue with that, I decided to tease her instead. “Is that where Stella goes to school?”

I watched her; she was trying to remain serious and pissed off, but I could see just a little bit of a smile before she forced it back down.

“This is serious Mark. I’m always going to be mentally ill; you need to understand that so you can adequately plan for the future.”

I shook my head at that; I knew that phrases like ‘adequately plan for the future,’ were just El speak for ‘run screaming in the other direction. “I’ve adequately planned. We’re going to grow old together. It’s going to be awesome. Just you and me, sitting on a porch in rocking chairs, laughing at little kids falling off of their bikes together. Aren’t you excited?”

El’s POV

I couldn’t help it; that was funny. I let out a little snort before I could stop myself, and then he wouldn’t let me stop. 

“See, you can laugh. Happy giggly girl is in there somewhere,” he teased, tickling me. “It doesn’t matter how much you try to hide, I can find her.”

I shrieked and tried to pull away again, but he was moving too fast for me, and I ended up sprawled on his lap, laughing hysterically.

“Stop Daddy! Stopppp! No more tickles!”

He stopped and pulled me back up to sitting, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. I didn’t like that position, and I began wiggling until I was leaning back into him. Pulling his hands up from where they were clasped, I began playing with them, pushing them together and then pulling them apart.

He let me sit like that in peace for a while, and I let myself relax a bit. I knew it wouldn’t last though.

“I was doing so good Daddy,” I whispered.

“You are,” he agreed.

I ignored his use of the present tense and continued. “Then I messed up and hurt myself again, and it’s just so...frustrating. I’m doing what I’m s’posed to. Why can’t I get better?”

Daddy was quiet as he responded to me, using the same voice he had when Barnaby got scared and hid behind the dryer. “Do you remember what we talked with Dr. Finnegan about? You try all the time to not cut yourself, but sometimes, you still will. We’re working on making the times that you cut happen less and less. And you’ve gone a while since you’ve done it now baby.”

“117 days,” I told him. I neglected to go over the hours and minutes, but I probably could.

“See? That’s a really long time princess. You spent the last 117 days not cutting. And that’s great.”

“I wanted to not do it ever though Daddy. It’s not fair,” I could feel my eyes filling with tears again, and I harshly wiped them away with my hands. 

“It’s not,” he agreed.

“I want to get better,” I said. It was almost more irritating when he agreed with me.

“I want you to get better too.”

Deciding to go with this, since he was apparently going to agree with everything I said, “And I don’t deserve a spanking because I feel really bad already; the worst punishment is feeling badly.”

Daddy laughed at that, “And you’re going to get a spanking because that’s what happens when you hurt yourself. But that was an excellent effort.”

I pouted at that; I hated getting spanked. Deciding to try again, I told him, “I really don’t want a spanking Daddy.”

“I want you to remember that the next time you want to hurt yourself then.”

“That’s not fair Daddy; you said you know I’m going to slip up. It’s not fair to make rules you know I can’t follow.”

Mark’s POV

Deciding that we’d probably spent enough time discussing why, I helped her stand up. “I don’t expect perfection, just effort. Come on, let’s go upstairs and deal with this.”

She stood in front of me, tearfully hugging Stella. “No Daddy. I don’t want you to spank me.”

“I know,” I took her hand and began leading her upstairs. It didn’t go quite the way I had hoped.

“No Daddy,” she pulled back, trying to twist away from me. “I don’t want a spanking. The spoon hurts a lot.”

I stopped walking and turned to look at her, “El, we’re going upstairs now. You’re going to get a spanking. Are you going to be a big girl and walk for me, or do you need me to carry you?”

She stomped, “No! I don’t want you to!”

I swatted her once. “Don’t stomp your foot at me. I’m going to count to three; if you don’t make a decision, then I’ll make it for you. One.”

“No Daddy,” she whined.

“Yes. Two.”

I watched her, somewhat surprised, as she sat down on the floor. “No. You’re mean.”

“Three,” it was a little harder than usual to pick her up because of of the angle, but I managed to get a good grip on her and then sling her over my shoulder. 

“Put me down!” she shrieked at me. “I don’t want to go upstairs!”

“We’re going upstairs,” I focused on holding her securely so she didn’t slip, and speaking calmly, not giving any reaction to how she was acting.

“PUT ME DOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWN!!!!” she yelled, smacking my back with open hands.

“Eleanor, we’re going upstairs now. I gave you the opportunity to walk, and you didn’t take it. So now, I’m going to carry you.”

Deep breaths. Calm. She was trying to get a response. That’s all.

El’s POV

All the blood is rushing to my head, and my nose is all stuffed up from yelling and crying. Daddy’s mean; he won’t listen.

“PUT! ME! DOWN!” I said, slapping him on the back

He smacked the back of my thigh, “Don’t hit me Eleanor. You’re getting a spanking already; if you keep this up, you’ll get another one at bedtime.”

“Why are you so meeeeeeeeeean?” I wailed, hanging limply now. I didn’t want a bedtime spanking. Especially not over whatever I was about to get.

Daddy dumped me on the bed, “Because I’m the daddy, and sometimes that means I have to be mean.” He went to grab the spoon.

“Not right now though Daddy,” I told him frantically. “Later. Later you should be mean. Right now we should have dinner and cuddle. Some other time you can be mean.”

He smiled at me, settling on the bed and helping me stand in front of him. “I love you, and I want you get better. You went for 117 days without cutting yourself; I must be doing something right. So,” he continued, pulling my trousers down, “We’re going to take care of it, and then you can work on beating your record.”

I whimpered a little as he helped me lay across his lap. Nearly a year into this, and the sensation of his legs underneath me still made my stomach drop sickeningly. Feeling his hand pet my bottom didn’t help.

“Can you tell me why we’re doing this?” he sounded so gentle, and I sniffled a little.

“Because I’m not ‘llowed to hurt myself. Even if it’s not fair to spank me for it ‘cause you know I’m going to break the rule, and that’s mean Daddy.”

I heard him try to stifle a laugh, and I kicked at the ground. “It is Daddy. It’s not nice.”

“You’re getting a spanking because you hurt yourself. That is never going to be acceptable behavior Eleanor.”

He started spanking, and I whimpered and kicked a little. “Ow Daddy,” I said. “Owwwwwww.”

“I know,” he kept going. “It hurts. I want you to remember exactly how much; the next time you look at your arms and think about hurting yourself, I want you to think about what this feels like.”

“I will,” I cried. He was just spanking with his hand, but he was spanking hard. And, I knew he was going to use the spoon too, and that was going to hurt lots more.

He kept swatting, hard, all over my bottom, until I was actually crying. That’s when I felt the spoon tapping against me.

“What happens when you hurt yourself El?” 

Daddy sounded so sad, and I hung my head down and sobbed. I hated getting spanked, but the feeling that I had disappointed him hurt worse.

“I get a spanking,” I gasped out.

He brought the spoon down where my bottom met my legs, and I squealed. “How baby?”

“With the spoon because it’s a lot bad to hurt myself.”

Mark’s POV

I could hear her getting younger as I spanked her. She’d be mortified if she realized she was using phrases like “a lot bad.” 

“That’s right baby. It’s very very naughty to hurt yourself,” I spanked as I lectured. “I know you talked with Dr. Finnegan about other stuff you can do when you want to hurt yourself.”

I put down the spoon, rubbing her bottom with my hand. “What are some of the things you’re supposed to do instead?”

“Talk to you,” she sobbed out.

I slapped my hand down hard, “That’s right. What’s another thing?”

“Go for a walk,” she squealed when I swatted her again. 

“What else?”

“Color,” she made a little yelp when I smacked her, but she continued without being prompted again. “I can write in my journal or ask you to go to the gym with me or sit in my swing or have a cup of tea.”

I was smacking with every activity she said, and she gave a shriek of pain after tea. I must have hit an especially sore spot. Sobbing, she stopped talking for a minute, and I stopped spanking. Rubbing her bottom, I waited until she had calmed down a little.

“What else did we talk about you doing?”

“No Daddy,” she sobbed. “No more spanks. Pleeeeeeeease.”

I forced myself to land half a dozen harsh swats across her thighs, “Answer the question little girl.”

“Call Mia or Gracie or Sarah. Get Dr. Finnegan. Do my imagery thing,” she drummed her feet against the ground, “Daddy sorry. Please stop. Please.”

“What else are you supposed to do instead El?” I wanted to give in more than just about anything, but Dr. Finnegan had drilled the importance of consistent consequences into me.

El sobbed desperately, “I-I-I don’t know Daddy. I can’t ‘member with you spanking me. It huuuuuuuuuurts.”

“Give me two more ideas and we’re all done princess.” She could do that. We had spent hours talking about this; I knew she could come up with two more ideas.

“Draw on my arms?” she asked, wailing at the answering swat. 

“One more.”

“Ummmmm....write in my journal?”

I swatted her a few times, “You already told me that one. Tell Daddy one more thing and we’re all done.”

I watched her lift her hands up to her hair and grab it.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Pull. Your. Hair.” I told her, emphasizing each word with another slap.

Her hands dropped instantly, and she gripped my left ankle hard, “Sorry,” she yelped. “Sorry Daddy; didn’t mean it. Sorry.”

“What else can you do?” I wanted to quit. Maybe I’d pushed her too far?

She was limp now, boneless, with the exception of the painful grasp she had on my ankle. I landed a few more smacks until she started talking. 

“I don’t-YOGA,” she shrieked. “I can do yoga Daddy stop stop please stop,” she wailed.

One more slap for yoga, and then I helped her stand up. Hugging her tightly, I rocked a little. “All done baby. All done. You did such a good job for me,” I murmured, my mouth pressed against her ear. 

El’s POV

My bottom felt like it was on fire; clutching Daddy tightly, I cried into his shoulder. “Sorry Daddy.”

“Shhhh shhhh. I know.”

I wasn’t close enough. I wanted Daddy to hold me tighter; I wanted to crawl inside of him, where he could keep me safe. 

Pushing against him, I tried to climb up enough to wrap my legs around him, but it tugged at my sore skin.

Daddy stood, picking me up. It hurt, wrapping my legs around his waist, but I needed more of him. 

“Do you want to rock baby?” he asked me quietly, starting to walk to our chair. 

“Don’t care,” I whispered.

He nodded at that and kept moving to the chair. When he sat down, he made a little groan. “Not my baby today, hmmm? More like a limpet.”

I gave a watery giggle at that, and he rubbed my back. “Baby,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “Still my baby.”


End file.
